Sly Cat
by bumblebee1
Summary: A whymsical short story...the simple settings of the Burrow...complex feelings...a bit of Weasley charm thrown in...Harry discovers the subtle sensuality in Ginny...Ginny persistently controls herself and her feelings for him...will both ends meet?
1. chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter's characters but only their actions in this story…

  The theme song of this story is from "Josie and The Pussycats" the movie…

                                                 **Chapter One**

_Well he looks at me with those innocent eyes and says_

_"It looks like you're wearin' some kind of disguise_

_Because you're hair sticks up. Your shoes are untied_

_I hope that you got that shirt at half price!!"_

_And every word I say falls flat on the floor_

_I try to tell a joke, he's heard it before_

_And I don't think that I can take it no more_

_It's driving me right out my front door_

_Why do you do what you do to me Baby_

_Shakin' my confidence_

_Drivin' me crazy_

_You know if I could I'd do anything for you_

_Please don't ignore me 'cause you know I adore you_

_Could you just pretend to be nice_

_Can you at least pretend to be nice_

_If you could just pretend to be nice_

_Everything in my life would be alright _

_Oeoeoeoeoeoeooooo_

_Oeoeoeoeoeoeooooo_

_Oeoeoeoeoeoeooooo_

  Ginny Weasley was a simple young woman with simple ways. And according to that particular trait in her, if there was ready-made sweetened chocolate powder for the chocolate milk, why go through the bother of putting the butter on the stove to melt then adding the cocoa, cream, and sugar to make chocolate sauce? But, unfortunately, that was how Uncle Robert liked it. 

   As the butter sizzled and melted into yellow oblivion, she contemplated how Uncle Robert was a not-so-simple man. He was complex. That was what drew her to him. Being simple, she had a penchant for the mysteriousness of complexity. Complexity was also what drew her to Harry potter. 

_Damn it_!

  Even when she was watching the butter melt did she have to think about Harry Potter. 

  Harry Potter was the main reason she was so much accused of daydreaming, as he annoyingly occupied her thoughts, and was so set on staying there, she gave up on kicking him out. 

_  He has no right to be there when he doesn't actually give a hoot about me_, she thought, furiously, as she stirred in the cocoa with such so much clanging that she got a hiss from her mother.

  "Sorry mum."  She mumbled. _It's so ironic isn't it? To fall madly in love with someone who forgets you still exist…it's always "Oh…Ginny" when he sees me...like he actually forgets my name, he needs a second to remember what it is. I don't even know why I like him._

  Now that was a stupid statement. At first it was because he was _Harry Potter. I mean, HARRY POTTER._ Even the name has a thrill to it. What eleven year old nitwit wouldn't "fall madly in love" with Harry Potter? Especially when Harry Potter turns out to be a real hero with all that trademark courage, honestly, and, well, sickening goodness. But as time at Hogwarts unfurled and revealed him to her, he wasn't just the hero. He was Harry the extremely friendly. Harry the wickedly adorable. Harry with the mega watt smile, the wish-you-could-get-your-hands-on-me Harry. And the eyes OH!  

  _Just stop it. The chocolate's burning._

  "Ginny! My mouth is watering. Where's my chocolate?" 

  _God he sounds a lot like dad_!

  The real question is if he was this perfect but the only flaw in him was that he didn't, let's say, to spare Ginny's feelings, acknowledge her, why did she still like him? 

  _Correction.__ LOVE._

  The hot sauce was now creamy enough and dark enough for Uncle Robert. __

_  It's amazing how even thinking about a subject like Uncle Robert could easily branch off into the subject of the yummy person named Harry Potter. _

The chocolate was poured into two colorful mugs and was followed with warm milk. 

  _Better leave the question unanswered for now. Uncle Rob needs his chocolate._

*    *    *

  "Here you are dad." Said Ginny, carefully handing her dad his mug. And across of him, she said to her uncle, "And you Uncle Robbie, I put extra cinnamon in yours. Did I keep you waiting too long?"

  "Oh, no" he said, waving a hand at her dismissively, "Thank you dear. Now you come right her next to Uncle Robbie and tell him all about Hogwarts. God, I do miss that place." 

  He was so adorable. 

  She sat next to him on the sinking green couch the Weasleys had in front of their hearth, where a bright cheery fire warmed up the living hole.

  "Uncle, hot chocolate happens to be a drink that you can't make more exciting" said Ginny, raising an eyebrow, as Robert reached for the decanter of whiskey on the mantle. 

  Uncle Robert turned in his chair and pouted at her, but she shook her head. It was so delighting to see him sigh sadly as if she had wounded his old heart.  

  "So, Sweetheart," He started, pinching her cheek, "Have you got any boys from Hogwarts between your teeth?" 

  "Now, now Robert. You can at least have some tact and not talk about that with her in front of her father! Look at her! She's blushing." Protested Arthur Weasley. 

  "And a pretty blush it is!" 

  Her cheeks were indeed warm with extra rosy color. Thank God she didn't take after Ron with his red ears. 

  "And between you and me, Gin, there isn't a man who wouldn't like to see a girl blushing at his doing! Don't you agree Arthur?"

  Arthur groaned and threw back his head. "Molly!" he called, "Will you come see to this cad who's flirting with your daughter? Come and glare at him!"

  Molly Weasley, the stout well known housekeeper of the Weasley household, emerged from the kitchen, fists at her hips. 

  "You're the man and her protector Arthur. Do something about it." she joked back. 

  Ginny just sat here, smiled, and enjoyed the whole scene. They were a jolly old clan. Harry Potter had said it in those exact words. A jolly old clan, even if they did get on her nerves most of the time. _Dear Harry_! _ I wonder what he's thinking at this very instant._

*    *    *

  Dear Harry was simultaneously composing a letter. 

  The only source of light in his room at Number 4 Privet Drive was the small desk lamp burning faithfully, casting an efficient sliver of orange light where his steady hand slid back and forth across the page.

  He stopped abruptly to relieve the cramp that had formed in his arm. 

  How quiet the house was. How lonely. A sigh escaped him before he could hold it back. The Dursleys had gone to visit Mrs. Something-or-other and said that they will not be back until 10:00. He had the house all to himself at least. He could steal as many cookies from the jar and nobody would notice the difference. Except, maybe, Dudley. But then, Dudley was stupid enough to think _he_ had eaten them. 

  He looked around his room, stretching his limbs all the while in a way that would have made the simpering girls giggle. __

_  Why the hell do girls think it's cute when guys stretch_?

  He had a slight headache and his eyes were burning from staying too long in the dark, poring over the letter, and his heart was sore from loneliness. 

  _Now that's something the Weasleys don't have to suffer from. They're always together. Laughing. Doing all sorts of family stuff that I wouldn't know about. _

  There. He'd caught himself thinking morose thoughts again. That was exactly what he was doing with his precious time all summer. Thinking Morose thoughts that where bound to drown him, pull him to the bottom of some well-known sea of sadness. This sadness had been with him ever since he could remember. And the cure for it was Hogwarts. Ron. Hermione. The weasleys all together. A sample of Mrs. Weasley's motherly hugs. Quidditch beating the hardness and cynicism out of him. 

  But in the summer, those things were only dreams of dreams. That was why he dreaded it. 

  Only one new thing had happened to him this holiday, however. He had been getting letters from an anonymous correspondent, who, apparently, didn't know who _he_ was either.  

  And so they'd been enjoying each other's "company" the last month and a half. 

  His pen friend, he inferred, was most probably a girl who was lonely, like him, even though she came from a large family.

  He'd wondered and pondered at that. 

  _At least you have someone to talk to, if the worst came to the worst. I have no one. I am completely alone. And many a time have I wished to have so many brothers and sisters. I _need_ to fight over the sausages with somebody, _he's once written "her". 

  When asked, she said that "_yes"_ she did go to Hogwarts but that she wasn't_ giving him a clue which year she was in. _

  Harry didn't care if she was in _first year_. She was _fun_ and _companionable. _That was precisely what he told her in the letter he was now writing. 

  He turned to reread it.

  _Dear friend,_

_   Do you think I honestly care which year you are in? You're fun and companionable and that's all that matters to me. _

_  You may think me pathetic, but I do stay up for hours at night wondering what you'll write in your next letter. Yes. I'm that lonely. The only family I have is not so much of a family. I've always wished they were different. There's a stupid saying that says "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade." How can I make lemonade of my family? I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I'm already feeling sorry for myself and I don't want anyone doing it for me._

_  Be a friend instead and cheer me up.  Are you a fan of Quidditch? A friend of mine thinks it's a serious waste of time and I can't get along with her at anything that has to do with Quidditch. If you are a fan then please let's talk of it. I'm having that manly urge to talk of sports! That would sure as sure cheer me up_

_  Let me ask you a question. Which would you cheer for, if you were an outsider to the school, Gryffindor or Ravenclaw in a decent game?_

_   If McGonagall were looking at me now she would sniff at me. Here I am talking about Quidditch with someone unknown instead of doing my homework.  Hey! Are you done with yours? I haven't started yet. I feel so unbelievably languid these days._

Yep. Languidness and listlessness were creeping into his blood, making it feel like thick syrup. 

  He picked up his quill and started to end the letter…

 

_  I think you would be more known to me if you had a nickname. I can call you by something at least. Tell me what you think. I'll surprise you the next time with my nickname. OR…even better…you could write a new one every time! _

_  God, I'm childish!_

_ Well…_

_See you,_

_Someone._

_Ps. you're a girl, aren't you? I figured as much as that._

*   *   *

  The calendar he went down and bought from a nearby supply shop indicated that there were four days left and he would be off to heaven. In a golden chariot and all.

  Heaven being the burrow.

  He missed giving Ron a good punch in the arm as a greeting and getting one in return. The two cool older brothers were something of a mystery to Harry as they were never really there, but the rest he missed as much as Ron. Except maybe Ginny Weasley. He could never say her first name without the last. She was just as much a mystery as Bill and Charlie. 

  Strange how, to him, it was Ron, Fred, George, Percy, Bill, Charlie, and…Ginny Weasley. Why was it that only Ginny was stuck with her last name in his mind?

  He _knew_ there was more to her than meets the eye but he wasn't exactly dying to find out more about her. He was perfectly fine with not knowing much. Not that he didn't care about her or anything…it was just that he liked things the way they were. _Then why the hell am I thinking too much about this?_

  Maybe it was because he didn't.

  "Open Up" came the snarl from behind the door that separated his world from the Durselys'. 

  "What do you want Uncle Vernon?" He spat. The rude tone of his uncle's voice got to him. So he thought he'd be rude back, although he didn't know where that came from. 

  It sounded like Uncle Vernon was astonished at the boy's rebellion for neither an answer nor a grunt was heard. 

  _What does he want to come growling at my door?_

  He swung open his door and faced the great lumpy form of an uncle, looking utterly deprived of speech. __

"Have I done anything that displeased you or aunt Petunia?" he asked sarcastically.

  "_Are you being sarcastic with me young man_?"

  "What does it sound like to you? You know what uncle Vernon? My name happens to be Harry. Add a Potter to it and it's the full name. But… _if_ you're too lazy to say it whole you can just content yourself with Harry." 

  His green eyes were blazing with the triumph he predicted in those few seconds he had snapped and spit his long-restrained venom at the elder Dursley, which even he saw and it him shook quite so much. That look. Where had he seen it before?

  Lost in puzzlement over the somehow familiar green look in Harry's eyes and burning inside with rage at his outburst, he looked like a cork that would pop at any moment and shoot to the ceiling. It was quite funny. 

  Harry took a deep breathe. "What did you want uncle Vernon?" 

  By now, dignified Vernon Dursley had regained his control. His eyes narrowed and a bushy eyebrow raised itself. 

  "Don't you _ever_ use that tone with _me_ when you're under my _roof_!" he hissed. 

  "Oh and _you_ can just hiss and snarl at me whenever you like?" 

  His arms were crossed at his chest. He was ready for war. This was his last year at this cursed household and he didn't care if he got himself kicked out at this very hour of the day. It would be just a little bit sooner than expected. 

  It was rash he admitted, but, Lord above, it was exhilarating!

  "Tell me, uncle Vernon. Why is it that _you_ can be rude at any time of the day? Why is it that _I_ have to be quite as a mouse while _you _can pound about and shout orders and snort? Why is that your son gets _more_ than enough to eat that he's wider than the front door while the only thing you allow to go down _my_ stomach in the morning is one teeny weeny sour grapefruit_"

  "THAT WILL BE_"

  "But you really don't have to worry about my appetite, uncle Vernon, because, for your information, my friends have been sending me all sorts of food that Dudley only dreams about…because they _care _about me" 

  "HOW DARE YOU_"

  "Did I ever turn you into bats or fruit flies? Did I use my _magic_ against you?"

  "If you recall the incident with Marge_"

  "I _do_ recall. I wonder, however, if you recall whether she deserved it or not. Since that time I have not allowed my parents to be an object or ridicule, nor will I ever again." 

  "WELL I_"

  "It turns out that _wizards_ are human, after all, eh Uncle Vernon? I do have feelings… and a temper, at that."

  "SIIIIILENCE!" 

  Loud thumping resounded on the nearby staircase. The curious faces of bony Aunt Petunia and dumpy Dudley appeared. Both looked a hell of a lot startled. 

  "Vernon! Are you all right, dear?" 

  "DAD! You look pissed!" 

  _How thick can you get, cousin? _

  "Of course I'm _pissed_." 

  He turned around and put his hands behind his back like a soldier and marched to stand next to his wife, who had gone pale and started chewing her tongue. 

  "Your nephew here is dissatisfied with our kindness through the last seventeen years." 

  _That's right uncle __Vernon__. It's easier for you to have someone siding with you isn't it?_

"What's all this about?" asked Aunt Petunia softly. 

  "Why don't you tell your _mother's sister _what you just said to me, eh?" hissed Uncle Vernon, threateningly. 

  "You think bringing up my mother when you need her for your defense is going to help matters any, uncle Vernon?"

   That was supposed to have filled Harry with remorse for what he'd said. It fired up a rage in him. His uncle was deliberately using his mother for his own ruthless proposes. 

  "Why haven't you mentioned my mother before until now, uncle Vernon?" he demanded, taking a step towards them. 

  In the back of his mind, he couldn't even remember what had fired up this argument. But all he knew was that it was amusing and amazingly satisfying. 

  Meanwhile, the poor speechless Dursleys stood…well they just stood.

  "It was always Ssh! When the weird freakish hocus pocus Lily witch was mentioned. But when the witch's own son, whom you thought you could manipulate for seventeen years, rebels against you, you'd dig that old name up as a shield, Wouldn't you?" He shouted, fully enjoying the strength of his voice and facial expressions. 

  The Dursleys had now begun to think that he'd gone bonkers, otherwise they couldn't believe that the boy would dare to say such things to them. 

      "I'm going now." He announced calmly, making the decision in a split second. "I'll making it easier for you and end it all. You won't have to worry about your damn reputation because your insane psychopath of a nephew won't be around anymore. That's what you want isn't it?"

  He stopped to enjoy the effect of his words. Wicked! It felt so good to be independent like this. Walking out on the Dursleys? Dreamed of it all his life!

  "Isn't it Uncle Vernon? Aunt Petunia?"

  He didn't bother with Dudley's opinion in this.

 "I'll go to the Weasleys."

  With that he turned around and closed the door softly. 

  Rooted to the spot, he found what he'd just done hard to believe. He actually pinched himself. 

  He put his urge to jump and whoop and laugh with joy in the back of his mind and went about the business of packing. 

  Outside the Dursleys looked at one another and shook their heads. That was the nasty Potter in him coming out of the boy. Just like his father. The last thing uncle Vernon thought as he went downstairs was _it was Lily's angry eyes I'd seen_. _And I never got to tell him to clean the garage. Pity. _

  *   *   *

   The Weasleys were surely not expecting him, and especially not soaking wet and half covered with his invisibility cloak with his battered broom trudging in his hand and Hedwig in her cage looking extremely disgruntled about her wet feathers. He'd left his trunk and suitcase at the Dursleys and was going to ask someone at the Weasleys to be kind enough and go to pick it up as he was underage and couldn't work any spells to help him with that. 

  Now, he was standing on the stone doorstep, waiting for someone to have the courtesy to answer the door and let him into the light and warmth of the crooked old house. 

  He was cold, hungry, and desperately needed a good laugh with Ron. 

  His impatience waned away when a hearty set of clomp-clomps echoed inside. 

  _Mrs. Weasley's wooden slippers.___

   "You should have gotten your job right by now! You collect the empty milk bottles in the _morning_ and repl_"

   The door clicked, opened, and the orange light encompassed him, surrounded him.

  "HARRY?"

   Harry grinned and nodded. How happy he was to see her. 

  "HARRY? OH you dear darling thing! How_what_erm…"then she laughed and grabbed his hand, "Oh you come inside at once! I thought you were the milkman!"

  She chattered away about the annoying milkman, forgetting to ask him how and why he ended up here sooner than they'd expected.

  When she reached up and lovingly shook his hair to get the excess rain out, he, without any kind of thought, put his head atop hers and hugged her hard. 

  "Oh" was all she whispered. 

  "I'm home, Mrs. Weasley." He whispered back. 

  She understood. With that short but very meaningful sentence, she understood. No more Dursley for him. 

  They finally pulled away after a few warm seconds.

  "Give me you jacket, dear. I'll hang it by the fire. You go meet the others and get some dry clothes."

  He pealed off his black denim jacket willingly. She took it and turned around to hang it on a hook near the blazing kitchen fire. Just then did he hear a suspicious sniffle from her. 

  "Thank you."

  He smiled at the back of her very red head.

  Then, in a rush of shouts and color, all the Weasleys that were home were crowded in the kitchen talking all at once.

  Ron gave him a best friend hug, Fred and George summoned party horns out of nowhere, Percy was all dignified smiles and gracious welcoming speeches, and Bill, who was home this time, was in the background smiling with his hands in his pockets.

  Someone was missing. 

  It became clear to him when a cute voice with a small bit of a scratch in it floated down the stairs. 

  "WHY does everyone in this house have to talk all at once?"

  Tall and slender Ginny Weasley was skipping carelessly down the creaky stairs, her lustrous red-gold curls playing along with the rhythm of her movement. 

  The moment her eyes fell upon him, he felt the wind getting knocked out of him. He was flabbergasted with the experience. 

  There she stood before his eyes, her hands haughtily at her small waist. Her sixteen year old chest was rising and falling with her short intakes of breath. And her eyes were just wonderful. Bright and long-lashed. Just the color of a fawn. 

  He'd never noticed it before. Maybe rain was good for both the mind and the eyesight. 

  When she was in such a ruffled state a thought skidded across his mind. 

  _She's _the _Weasley. _

  "Hello, Gin" was all he could think of to say to the beauty in front of him.

*   *   *  

= right up next, folks, is how Ginny and Harry get along together in the days he spent at her home…

       
  


    
  

   


	2. chapter 2

A/N: I promise that this chapter is more interesting than the last!

         I'm going about this slowly so than you can see the change in Harry's and Ginny's attitude toward each other…just a few scenes where I throw them in together…and others just so you can have fun with the Weasleys. 

                                                                                 **CHAPTER TWO**

  Ginny didn't know what to do with the tall male Potter standing in her kitchen with, what seemed, an easy smile on his lips.

  His hair was spiky and dripping. His eyes were bright and an impossible wondrous green, peering at her from behind those horrid glasses, that she had the subconscious feeling that her own eyes were turning that same color. 

  "Harry! W-what are you doing here? I mean – what are you doing here _now_?"

  Could it have sounded stupider than that?

  He laughed. The laugh hurt more than anything else. But despite the humiliation, she noted how his face lit up like a jolly moon when he did.

  "Shut up Ginny and give him a hug!" said Fred, pushing her at Harry. 

  Unknown to Ginny was Fred's real intention. He had longed for a long time to see those two together; he was almost sentimental about it. His love for her made him wish to see her secure and loved by someone he could trust like Harry. _A nudge here and a nudge there ought to do it,_ he thought, _and Harry is finally smitten._

  Ginny, however, thought he was being typical teasing Fred who'd never given it a break with her crush on Harry. 

  But what can one do when thrown into the arms of Harry Potter but stay in the arms of Harry Potter?  

  During that brief embrace, in which she couldn't even remember what she'd mumbled to him, she noted many things that set the butterflies free in her stomach and kept her up that night. 

  How he smelled of rain and fresh green things…How she was not at all annoyed when her clothes were marked with his warmth and wetness…How exquisite the chuckle he released into her hair sounded…

  She wanted to stay there, snuggled up with that glorious feeling, in his arms…but, as mentioned before, it was brief.

  The world turned right-side-up again when he let go of her. It was once again sane and logical. 

  Everything happened so fast after that. Harry was swallowed up in the endless chatter of her brothers and she found herself standing alone, the last to leave the kitchen.

  But then, a spark lit up and sent a feeling of frustration in the ego corner of her brain. It was obviously fate's doing. To give her a taste of sweet sensual heaven then pull her back by the hair, let her land on her bum. She felt like crying. 

  Then, another spark in the Weasley corner of her brain had its say. She wasn't going to let fate play with her like that.

  She marched right into the heart of the living room and sat herself upon the arm of the loveseat Fred and Ron were seated on. 

  _Damn you Potter! You and your good-looking ancestors! Ginny Weasley might have been silly mooning frivolously over you like a brainless idiot but you'll soon see how solid she can be. You wanted Weasley? I'll give you a taste of Weasley. _

  If she was to have heaven then she would have it all. Meanwhile, she would be quite content on the arm of this chair, at a good healthy distance from the object of her desire.

  _And if heaven wants me it'll have to tiptoe over and get me._

*    *    *

  Mr. Weasley and his brother were home by ten O'clock that night. 

  Their dinners were had in front of the fireplace in the living room, listening to the hearty voices of the young ones surrounding them. 

  They ate under Mrs. Weasley's watchful eye. Perhaps that was the reason that not a single crumb was found on the floor, not a spot of grease on the furniture. 

  "What happened between you and the muggles, Harry? Gave you a hard time?" asked Mr. Weasley, unable to conceal the glimmer of interest in his eyes.

  "Well," Harry hung his head and smiled, "Let's just say we had the hugest fight ever. But you know what Mr. Weasley?"

  "Which one?" joked Robert in the background.

  Harry cocked his head and grinned at him, which sent and involuntary gurgle up Ginny's guts.

  "I threw a tantrum! I've never thrown a tantrum before! But I put both sides at ease, at least. The Dursleys won't have anything to complain about for the rest of their long miserable days and I will…I dunno…start my own family!" 

  Laughter broke out among the clan, and even Ginny found it in her heart to laugh. But the thought of Harry starting a family made her blush.

  "Actually," he continued, "I had the jolly nerve to give Aunt Petunia an irksome peck on the cheek before I went out and wished them good luck for the rest of their days. I said: I wish it didn't have to be this way." Then he snorted at his own words, ", like I was breaking up with my girlfriend or something"

  "Is that how you'd break up with your girlfriend?" Ginny piped up, without thought. 

  Ron reached out and tugged a lock of her hair, playfully "Yeah, _you'd_ want to know, wouldn't you?" he whispered. He was tactful enough not say it out loud, but she was sure Harry and the rest of the room got the gist. 

  Harry merely shrugged at her. 

  "Ah! What will they do without me, I wonder?" he mused out loud. 

  "Rot, that's for sure!" said Mrs. Weasley, "It was your magic, Harry, that kept that household intact. Such unpleasant people! Harry, I congratulate you!" 

  She sighed. It must have been something she'd been dying to say for years. 

  "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is Harry Potter's inside story, the latest scoop!" called out Robert Weasley jovially. 

*   *   * 

  The still quiet darkness loomed over Harry like a settled swarm of crows. 

  It was the middle of the night and Ron's crowded room was humming with different kinds of snores, with different lilts to them, each unique as the person it belonged to.

  But it wasn't the impossible snoring that kept Harry wide awake at this hour. It was the colorful visions that defeated the darkness enveloping him. 

  The Weasleys lived up to his expectations. Their atmosphere was simply merry, like a medieval feast, and Weasley enough for him, like it always was. They managed to make him forget his messy state at the Dursleys, all the other miseries of his life, made him feel like he was one of them, always had been one of them. Them and their genuine grins and comical red hair. 

  It was his first time meeting their uncle, Robert. Harry had to muffle his chuckle when he thought of him. That man looked like a loon disguised as an uncle. He had a funny lovable air about him. Like a man who loved to smash waistcoat watches for fun while taking a swig of his "healthy" Irish gin. And he did seem to flirt with the womenkind so very much. 

  And Ginny. It felt like it was his first meeting her too. He'd known her along time but somehow he hadn't. In a nice way. In a way that thrilled him and made him _want_ to know more about her. 

  What had Ginny done to herself in a matter of a month and a half? Or had she been like that a long time while he'd been the blind bloke who never noticed it? She suddenly was pretty. No, pretty wasn't the word. Gorgeous and fiery. 

  Her eyes were large, wondrous, with spirit in them, and her cheeks had a blooming girlish color. 

  He lay on the squishy mattress, replaying every detail of the night in his mind. Every detail that had to do with her. 

  Her hair was gleaming in the firelight, a ravishing…what would one call that color? Auburn was not enough to describe it. Neither was red-gold. 

  _Why am I thinking about Ginny's hair?_

_  Because you felt like touching it all through dinner time, you prat_

Her smile was appealing, so coy, so natural. Her hand movements were smooth, her voice so lovely. 

  Ginny always seemed in the shadow but she stood out tonight, burned her way in and took her rightful place in his thoughts.  

  _It's physical attraction, that's what it is, Potter. _

  Without being aware of it, his thoughts toed the line and carried themselves too far. 

  _What would it be like to have Ginny in bed? _

_  Yeah Right! All those brothers would be after my head for doing their sister. _

_  Potter, this is ridiculous. _

  But that bit of scolding didn't help at all, because his next thought was:

  _I wonder if she's a virgin. _

_  He_ most certainly wasn't. That mad fling with Parvati was still fresh in his mind. They had enjoyed each other's bodies last year, but Harry had to break if off with her because, even though the sex was great, he always felt sick afterwards. There were no emotional connections between them. None whatsoever. 

  There was another little fling with Cho Chang that lasted no more than three days, but that was about it. 

  And here he was thinking sinful thoughts about Ginny. Thoughts that were bound to wake Mr. Weasley up from his slumber. 

  But no. It wasn't just physical. Really. There was something subtle about her that maybe even she didn't realize.

  He wanted to uncover it all. See it all. He'd changed his mind.

  One more Weasley in his inventory to know and found out more about couldn't hurt at all. 

*    *    *

  "So Harry, What are you planning to do after Hogwarts?" asked Uncle Robert at breakfast one day. 

  "Work for the ministry of magic," Harry replied, biting into his toast, "I might become an auror one day."

  "Department of magical law enforcement, then?"

  Harry nodded. 

  "It'll take you years to get there, mind you. You'll have to start off with a very junior job like…a neighborhood sentry or his assistant. 'snt that right Arthur?"

  "Yep. Right-O. You'll have to take Law enforcement courses at the ministry before you start, though."

  "What about Quidditch Harry?" asked Ginny, who was pretending, to calmly reach for the marmalade, while her real intention was to have a close look at those eyes.

  "Nah! While it's fun, it's useless. I don't want to be one of those hair gel advertising athletes which girls go nuts about." He replied, looking at her, also wanting to look at _her_ eyes. The way they twinkled when she laughed at what he just said.

  "Like David Beckham?" she pressed.

  "Yeah! How do _you_ know about David Beckham?"

  "Ron here," she nudged her brother, next to her, "pretends he doesn't give a hoot about soccer but he has loads of muggle sports magazines under his bed."

  "How do _you_ know there are muggle magazines under my bed?" Ron asked, looking scornfully at his sister.

  "I was looking for Pigwidgeon."

  "Under my bed?"

  "_Yes_, Ron. He sometimes hides there, didn't you know?"

  "So that's when you thought you'd rummage through my stuff?"

  "I wanted to look at the muggle guys!" 

  Everyone stopped chewing and looked at her.

  "What?"

  After a pause, Harry was the first who laughed. "If _I_ were a famous athlete, would you flip through a magazine just to look at _me_?"

  Then, he looked up, realizing what just popped out of his mouth. He was flirting openly with Ginny. Something he'd never done before. As the rest on the breakfast table whooped and smacked Harry on the back, he didn't even realize that he'd done it in front of her parents. 

  Ginny, across him, was blushing. The scarlet crept up her neck to her cheeks. But instead of being mortified, her cheery mood that morning allowed her to see the humor of the situation and she had to bite her cheeks to keep from laughing. 

  "I honestly don't know what to say to that." She murmured in reply. 

  Mr. Weasley, who was laughing too, pushed his chair back, as much as the small kitchen could allow him, and got up.

  "All right that's it. I've been around teenagers too long. Harry, stop flirting with my daughter! And Ginny, don't let me catch you looking at another guy magazine!" he ordered teasingly, giving Ginny a friendly wink. 

  He took his last gulp of coffee then looked at his brother. "We'd better be off. What say you, Robert?"

  "I'm game when you are, Arthur"

  They both took their bowler hats and they both kissed Mrs. Weasley good-bye.  

  *    *    *

  That afternoon, Mrs. Weasley chivvied them all out of the house, even poor Bill, who had intended to sit quietly on the armchair and read the daily prophet, now that no one had their hands on it. 

  "The dears!" she whispered to herself, shutting the door after them, "but one is entitled a moment of peace and quiet."

  Outside, almost half a dozen pairs of feet trampled the smooth grass of the lawn that led to the small valley where the Weasleys used to spend their childhood days doing all sorts of nonsense.

  Boring Percy sat himself on a boulder, quill and ink in hand, and went about the boring business of writing a report for his boss. Fred and George were too lazy to do anything else but blow dandelion seeds from far away that kept getting into Percy's way or into the still wet ink on his parchment. 

  "Knock if off you two!" shouted Percy. He turned and caught Ginny, who was feeling quite wicked herself, gathering dandelions in Fred and George's aid. But she pretended to innocently have trouble placing the dandelions in her hair. 

  When she did succeed, however, Harry thought she looked lovely. Fresh and warm and magical. The breeze whispered a few curls into brushing her face and his hands involuntarily clenched with the impulse to reach out and smooth it all back again. But instead he smiled and decided to engage her in conversation. 

  "So Gin," he started, with no idea whatsoever of what he was going to say next. When she dragged her laughing eyes from the catawumpus commotion Fred, George, and Percy were doing, he got it.

  "What are _you_ going to do once you're out of school?"  
  A sweet little smile spread slowly across her face. "Erm...actually_"

  "She's going to be song writer, Virginia Weasley." Interrupted Ron with a look of malice on his face, "And the first song she's going to publish will be…" he stopped a second to make a bit of an effect, "_His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad__"

  "RON!" she cried. 

  Just then she turned from sweet maiden to tigress. Her eyes flashed, her face was flushed, and, Harry noted, there was a cute little frown in her brow.

  "You could at least save _Harry_ the embarrassment! I'm sure he doesn't want to be reminded of that!" 

  "Come one, Gin, it's not big deal. And _you_ weren't embarrassed?" 

  The tempest inside her began to grow more intense. 

  "That was _the_ most humiliating incident of my life! Do you actually _enjoy _making fun of me, Ron?" 

   Temper made her forget that Harry was part of the conversation, nay, the one who started it even.

  "All _right_! Back off, woman! Sheesh!" 

  Harry watched the small fight with a grin on his lips but he was internally perplexed. That incident was embarrassing to her? And she was writhing in mortification about it? 

  It somehow made him feel like he'd lost something he could have seized but instead, let slip through his careless fingers. The way she and Ron talked about that Valentine's day in front of him, like it was a mere matter of no great importance, not enough to keep hushed from him vexed his mood. Did that mean that that old crush had died away? 

  _Does this matter?_

_ Maybe, just maybe, it does._

The day continued to be lovely. It was humming with life and warmth and sweet scents. 

  Ginny leaned back on her elbows and crossed her outstretched legs. The nearby clump of honeysuckles had a strong scent that was softly diluted with the tingly breaths of the pine trees, blowing gently that, one would almost think it had come from the subconscious. It relaxed her as she felt it seep into her blood, her mind. It was when she was like this that a song crept into her, filling her head, and giving a slight haze to her eyes. 

  Her foot jiggled, her fingers tapped, as the tune took shape, rose and fell, in funny impish lilts. And slowly, as if to join the celebration, the words whirled in.

  I won't say that only Harry noticed the disposition she was in while they were mushroom hunting in the nearby wood. Ron too did and a flash of pure brotherly wickedness on his face told Harry he had a scheme. 

  It was a lovely picture of her they would have to ruin, Harry thought. He did already regret it even before it happened. She looked so aloof and lost in some other world. Her hair was a wild tangle of bright red-gold hair, the color of Mr. Weasley's whiskey, brushing the grass provocatively. Her face was flushed and tilted, exposing the subtle curve of white throat peering from the opening of her shirt collar. 

  And a simple image like that had Harry involuntarily building wild erotic ones upon it. He didn't care much for that. 

  Through whispers and silenced laughs, Ron told him what he had in mind, to disrupt Ginny's mood.

  "You want to see what Ginny's like when she's angry?"

  Harry grinned and nodded. Ron, unwarily, enhanced his fantasies by mentioning Ginny's temper. 

  _Poor Ron! I'm a bad best friend, I am!_

  "Alright let's go. And _don't _laugh!"

  That Harry didn't. He did indeed like to see the beauty of Ginny's temper rising, but he didn't fancy himself as the reason. 

  They climbed the short bump, up to where Ginny was relaxing alone. 

  The serenity she appeared to be in washed over him like a soothing wave. He wanted to plop down next to her and do whatever she was doing. But it was too late.

  "Ginny!" Ron barked. Harry crossed his arms and tried to look speculative. 

  The faintest of gasps, barely heard, had Ron satisfied. "What do you think you're doing?"

  "Excuse me?" she said, apparently too surprised to scorn Ron's tone.

  "What the _bloody_ hell do you think you're doing?" he said again, louder this time. 

  "Ron, just _what_ crawled up your arse?" 

  Harry snorted. A nudge from Ron quieted him. 

  "It's not funny, Harry" he said glaring, "What crawled up my arse? What you've been doing all summer's what crawled up me bloody arse!" 

  A faint shout from George echoed from the hill yonder. "Hey! Mind your language there!"

    No one paid any attention to George.

  "He told me what you've been doing." Said Harry

  "Oh? And what might that be, Harry-O?" 

   As quick as lightning, she was up on her feet, her eyes level with them both and had as much threat.

  "You've been writing to Draco Malfoy haven't you?" Ron hissed, before Harry could get a word out.

  Now, all of this was a joke on her of Ron' brilliant creation. He _had_ seen her sending letter to the same person countless times and he was gnawing at himself wishing to find out who it was. If it was a secret lover, he would want to tease her about it wouldn't he? Or else he wouldn't be fulfilling his duty as brother. And the Draco Malfoy part he threw in just to get the words out of her, including spoiling her blissful mood, which, in his way of thinking was a show of affection. 

  Ginny, on the other hand, was annoyed, ready to snap, but slightly confused. She would have asked for an explanation for what he'd just accused her of but temper brought another idea into her head.

  "Yes. I have." She said it with a lofty raise of her head. 

  She looked in every way truthful to both Ron and Harry, and that threw them off track quite brutally. Judging by their painfully raised eyebrows, of course. For just a few second they couldn't but mouth at her. 

  "Liar." Said Ron, when he recovered, although he did look very much like he believed her. 

  "Why?" Harry whispered.

  "No, I'm not Ron. If you don't believe me you can bloody well ask him yourself. And the why of it, Harry, is my concern." 

  There! That served Harry right for being the blind fool that he was. And Ron, the git. 

  "What the hell do you think you're doing philandering with the likes of _him_?"

  Enjoying the game immensely, Ginny put a pouty look on her face and said, with the voice of a girl in love, "You don't know him Ron!" 

  "Don't want to! You stay away from him. Heard me?"

  "You're not my father!" 

  "Oh alright then! I'll _bring_ our father into this if it will have you satisfied."

  There was a sheen of tears in Ginny's eyes, fake ones of course. One thing she prided herself on was the ability to act when she wanted to.

  "I'm going inside!" she said sulkily. 

  After turning around and walking down to the house, she gave a fake sniffle to confirm to them that she was for real. 

  "Ginny! You listen to me! You got yourself tangled up in that family's clutches before! Do you want to be after that again?" he called behind her.

  The claws of rage at such a statement flexed and threatened to scratch inside her. But she didn't act upon it, didn't oblige it by setting it free, for fear of spoiling her delicious plan of revenge on Ron and Harry, who appeared to be with him in this.

  When she, at last, came upon the kitchen's backdoor, she wrenched it open and slammed it behind her. 

  "What happened to _you_?" asked Mrs. Weasley as she waddled into the kitchen, noting the way her eyes were bright and her face was scarlet.

  "Mum!" she breathed out, rubbing her hands in glee, "I just lied to Ron and told him I was secretly _with _Lucius Malfoy's son, Draco!" 

  A giggle bubbled out of her.

  Her mother didn't look very pleased. "Well? How did he take it?" she asked absently, getting a bowl out from the cupboard. 

  "Oh, he just threatened to tell dad and deal with Draco Malfoy." She said shrugging as she got the eggs out for her mother. 

  "I have the notion of making your grandmother's recipe of pumpernickel bread. Get the pan out for me, will you dear?"

  Molly did have a sense of humor. But she didn't like to show it when came to some things. She shook her head behind Ginny's back and smiled. Ron must have gone brotherly on her, bless him. And God help the man she was going to Marry. 

  But thinking about Ginny's marriage made her queasy. She wished her beloved only daughter would stay with her for always, helping her make bread and having tea with her in the morning. She wanted everything wonderful for her, yet her impossible motherly selfishness held the wishing for it back. 

  _She's growing up. So fast, that I keep thinking of such things even when I'm making bread._

  They had a hearty little chat together in the small kitchen and both of them felt heaps better at the end of it. 

  "Gin there's some cake from last night if you want it. And, Sweetheart, do tell Ron the truth today. It would be cruel to wait any longer than that." She said gently.

  "Mum!" she cried, "Don't waken up my conscience now! I wanted to torture him!"

  "Have it your own way, Ginny, "she replied with sigh, as she peeked into the oven, "But I can tell from now that you won't be able to play a joke like that on your father when Ron drags him into this business."

  "Then I'll make sure he doesn't." 

*   *   *

  Bill prided himself on his silence in these matters. But his time he couldn't contain himself. 

  The half folded newspaper was tucked underneath his arm, and his stride was long and confident. 

  When he caught up with Harry, there was a grin on his face. He slapped a hand on his shoulder, genially.

  "Good luck wooing my sister, Harry."

  Harry, who was astounded at such a remark, only goggled at Bill.

  "W-what?"

  "She may be a bit stubborn at first but you never mind that. She'll come to at the end. She waited too long for you, you know!"

  "Bill, what are talking about?"

  Bill sighed. "I've said my say and rested my case. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about." His grin grew wider when he nudged Harry's ribs, "She's a pretty one isn't she?"

  Without waiting for an answer, he strolled away, whistling, satisfied that he'd given Harry the advice. 

 *   *   *

  There was a tangible tension between Ginny and Ron for the rest of the day and Ron daren't bring it up with her because they were always surrounded with people. 

  Like a hawk, He was watching for the chance to grab her and speak with her alone without raising suspicions. If it was Hogwarts he would have pulled her into one of the numerous broom cupboards to keep Filch happy and no one would notice their disappearance. 

  Many a meaningful look did he give her, a glare, a grin, anything to get into that hard head of hers that he wanted to talk to her in private. But all those she returned with a sweet smile then a few bites on her nails, just to "show" that she was nervous about the whole situation. 

  Harry, who was prepared to apologize to Ginny for allowing Ron to play a joke on her and for being a part of it, to smile at her for the rest of the evening, was still baffled that the joke was on them and was a good deal ruffled at spirit. 

  At the end of the day, however, the sulkiness turned to anger. 

  Ginny was involved with someone. And with who? It had to be his enemy. They had to talk her out of it. Whatever intentions Malfoy had toward her couldn't be good. And what kind of a flighty person was she to allow herself such frivolity? She really was so full of surprises. 

  Those were mediocre thought that buzzed around in his mind but the final one was of furious fire.

  SHE WAS GODDAMN WRITING TO DRACO MALFOY!          

  But what if she was lying? She wouldn't risk her parent's strict disapproval and her brothers' animosity. And it was very difficult for him to imagine Draco Malfoy showing any kind of interest, no matter how small, how insignificant, in Ginny Weasley, whose family he considered an absolute source of scorn.

  That was sense wasn't it? Rational thinking.

  _Bugger it!_

  He had no real thread to hold on to but her word. 

  And what the hell was this anyway? Why was he wasting his thoughts so much on the matter when he could be listening to the entertaining story Uncle Robert was telling? Maybe he really did have a thing for her. 

  He watched her from his perch on the stool beside Mr. Weasley's armchair. She was all snuggle up in the "corner" of the sofa, notebook and quill in hand and appeared to be writing something that gave her pleasure. He suddenly wanted to snuggle up next to her and have her tell him what she was writing with that sweet fuzzy voice of hers. He wanted to push that rebellious red curl which she chose not to notice away from her eyes and behind her ear where it belonged. Or else just grab a fistful of those chaotic spirals near the back of her neck and give a good hard tug just so he could see those baby dear eyes turn into those of a tiger. The idea appealed to him so much that he was caught staring and smiling goofily by none other than her. 

  Harry was watching her. It pleased her to see that gorgeous smile directed at her but its motive irritated her. So he was planning something else wasn't he? Either that or he was, with very much relish, imagining the trouble she would get into once her father was told.

  She gave him a frown and the pert tip of her tongue. Then without so much as a second glance she returned to the letter she was writing to her pen pal, though it cause her a great deal of pain to look away from that wonderfully sculpted face. 

  _What business has he to look beautiful when I'm irritated with his guts?_

_  *   *   *_

But Harry Potter continued to look beautiful, just to spite her. But when luscious Harry potter steps into her bedroom without being invited and grabs her arm, it would be another matter completely. 

  A jolt bounced through her when he walked in, stormy faced and sober. She didn't even have time to put her night robe on so she had to contend with standing in front of him wearing nothing but baby blue pajamas that said "love me" on the front. 

  Harry felt that he was stepping into some other world. He couldn't quite explain it. It was his first time in Ginny's room. And a strange room it was.

  She didn't keep any silly stuffed animals on her bed or furry pink cushions that looked inside-out. It was all in all a subtle and sensual room.

  From an ornate lamp on the bedside table, dim golden light streaked and shimmered through the dark corners of the room, mingling harmoniously with the rich burgundy and creamy colors she had chosen. There were queer dangles hanging from the ceiling, making a low faerie sort of tinkling, pretty objects which he'd never seen before and can only be described as witchy were placed on almost every surface, excluding the bed, and beneath the window was a tall glass vase with fake tiger-lilies. And in one holy looking corner of the room, he spotted a guitar and a pile of scrolls scattered near a plump and very inviting bean bag cushion. 

  "Hello, Harry" she said quietly. She waited till he left off looking at her room like he'd never seen one before and turned his gaze at her. "And you are in my room."

  "Erm…"

  "You've never been in my room before." She remarked.

  When he fumbled for something to say, she gave him a warm smile, which was natural on her side, and exciting to him, and said as she seated her self, cross-legged on the bed, "Doesn't mean you're not welcome."

  "It's…a nice room." 

  _It's sly and sexy, yet natural, _he said to himself. _Not just nice._ Which, then again, represented a part of her he'd never noticed before. 

  "Thank you. Did you want something?"

  "Yes." He put his hands on his hips and gave her a half grin. "I…came in here to give you a good scolding…but…"

  "But what?" she asked in a semi whisper.  

  "But I forgot what I was going to say!" 

  "Oh."She said simply, her eyes lively with humor, "Too bad. I've never been scolded by you before, Master Potter. I wanted to hear what it would have been like."

  "Stop it." he said, cocking his head abashedly. 

  He was slightly nervous and needed to sit somewhere, so he placed his bum on the round bedpost, then shot up again, and frowned at it mild irritation.

  Now if that wasn't adorable, she didn't know what was. Forgiveness took place in her heart at the cute sight of him. 

  She giggled, waved him over and patted the bed, a gesture for him to make himself comfortable. He sat on the side of the bed, very gingerly, as if she could have hidden a porcupine underneath the covers. 

  "I just felt suddenly that you're not one I could bring myself to scold."    

  Her stomach did a very acrobatic flip-flop.

  "And just what did you want to scold me about?"

  "Well…you know…"

  When she smiled at him sweetly, he raked a hand through his hair in frustration with himself. "This Malfoy business." He burst out saying.

  Just then, he looked like a sulky child who needed a pat on the head and a piece of candy to go with it. 

  "Right" she said. "What have you to say about it?" 

  "Well…I'm concerned, I guess."

  "About me?"

  _Honey I'm not just concerned but I'm also jealous, so sue me._

"Yes, about you." He paused a while, staring at a funny turtle shaped jewelry box on the bedside table. "I mean, think about what you're putting yourself through." 

  "I have done that, Harry. Do you think I'm a brainless twit to go mooney-eyed on Draco Malfoy for no reason?"

  "So you _are_ mooney-eyed over Draco Malfoy!"

  "That's not the point. The point is I know what I'm doing and I _am_ careful. So you're not to worry." 

  "Can't help it though! May I ask when this started?"

  "Oh, a long time ago."

  A heavy dread filled up his insides that he wondered how he was going to heave himself up off the bed. 

  _Why is this happening to me? Have I gone and fallen in love with her?_

 Then the unexpected had him forgetting his heavy heart and the tangle of confusion in his head. 

  Ginny, who couldn't contain herself, buried her head under the pillows and laughed so hard her shoulders shook. 

  "What?"

  She sat up again, considerably touched by the miserable look on his face, and decided to forgive him and tell him the truth. 

  "You should see the look on your face!" she said, still laughing. 

  She didn't answer him ,but got up, instead, and quietly pushed the door closed, locked it, then turned around to face him, her expression looking somewhat like that of a sly kitten.

  "I'll tell you something if you swear upon your father's soul that you won't tell Ron."

  Quite puzzled, and a bit tired, if he admitted it to himself, he nodded.

  But Ginny wasn't satisfied.

  "Swear it."

  "Alright, I swear!"

  She moved silkily away from the door, padding softly on the burnished wooden flooring. Her hips made very soft swaying movements and her arms were crossed. Then she was right in front of him, looking down onto his face, all gleaming hair and darkened eyes and shamelessly full lips stretching into a wry smile. 

  "I lied." She whispered. 

  His first reaction was to raise his eyebrows. Then to raise them higher. "This morning?"

  "Yep!"

  "You lied?"

  She stopped laughing and bit her cheeks. She confirmed it for him with a firm nod.

  "_Damn it, Ginny!_"

  Her eyes grew wide. It was appreciation of that hot arousing outburst, it was. She took a step back and looked at him cautiously. 

  "How could you do that? If you were my sister I'd strangle you, d'you know that?"

  "Well I'm not!" she shot back. "I already have six brothers and six are enough for me."

  _And if you want to be something else to me, you jackass, you're quite welcome._

 "You frightened the wits out of Ron. He's boiling over it."

  "And?"

  "And? Ginny, put yourself in his place and try to imagine what sort of images he might be having in his head right this instant!" 

  She snorted. "Why doesn't _he_ come and scold me about it?"

  "I dunno!"

  He wasn't really thinking about Ron, at the moment, to tell the truth. He was very content with feeling relieved that she wasn't linked with someone. 

  "I'm really surprised. What made you do that?" he asked.

  "Guess Ginny the angel isn't one after all, eh Harry?"'

  "Are you trying to prove something here?"

  "_No_!" she glared at him, "No, I'm not! I was just having fun."

  "This isn't my idea of fun."

  "That'll be your problem, won't it?" still glaring. 

  He was taken aback. 

  "What's wrong with you?"

  She laughed again. A rich mirthful laugh. 

  "I'm sorry! I'm just feeling frisky!" 

  "That's not my idea of frisky either." He said. Although, this time he said it with a surrendering smile. 

  "What is then?"

  "Well…"he began, "_you're not going to change the subject."

  He headed to the door, preparing to unlock it. 

  "I have to tell Ron. _You_ have to tell Ron."

  "I most certainly won't. And you won't either. I assume you're a man of your word."

  He turned around and put his hand on his waist. 

  "Why are you doing this Ginny?"

  "To get back at Ron for being a stupid git…And I wanted to annoy you too!" 

  His eyes immediately changed from fearless green into something that resembled the hurt look of a puppy, although I've never seen a puppy with green eyes.

  "Me? What did I ever do to you?"

  The tremble in her voice he next heard had many layers of things hidden beneath it.

  "Nothing! That's just it, Harry!"

  Before he could answer, there was startling pound on the door that had the blood rushing fast into both their heads. Ginny took a deep breath and gestured toward it. "Unlock it."

  A furious looking Ron with wild red hair flying every which where, stomped in, when Harry opened the door. Ginny narrowed her eyes.

*    *    *

  "If you're going to come in looking like that, you can get out."

  "I'm not leaving here until I get things straight with you." He said with vigor, point fiercely at the floor under his stockinged feet. "You've been avoiding me all day and don't try to pretend you weren't. I care about you, alright, Ginny. And whether you like it or not this _is _my business." 

  Ron stopped to pant.

  "Ok." Said Ginny breezily and continued to look at him, with a somewhat nonchalant look on her face that was hinted with challenge. 

  "You're not taking this seriously." Ron snarled.

  "Would you care to _lecture_ about why I should?" she asked, enunciating every word.

  "All right I will!" Ron shouted, "First of all you'd be getting yourself in even worse danger than you did in your first year. Second if this family's reputation doesn't mean anything to you, well it does to me! I'm not having you trampling it that way. And least of all, Ginny, something both you and I know, mum and dad are not going to like this."

  "When did _you _get so righteous all of a sudden? I think Mum and Dad see that all of us are grown up." Ginny hissed.

  "Well _I_ think they're going to change their minds about one of us." Ron shouted back.

  They made quite the picture. Ginny was the angry hissing cat who'd just been purring and looking extremely docile and Ron was the red raging tempest blowing in its face. 

  "_Just Stop it you two_!"

  Harry bounced forward and put a hand on each of their shoulders. He was used to this. He'd got a lot of practice from when Ron and Hermione sniped at each other that way. 

  "Ginny, I hate it to spoil this for you, but you should tell him the truth. And Ron," he said, giving him a level look, "Calm down."

  Ginny stepped back, turned around and took a deep breath. When she faced them again she had a bit of a smile in her face, a rather reluctant one. 

  "Alright. Alright, Harry." She inhaled again, "This isn't as fun as I thought it would be anyway."

  "What are you talking about?" asked Ron, looking confused but still ready to jump back to war.

  "I lied to you."

  "What d'you mean you lied to me?"

  "This morning. You and Harry were playing a joke on me so I thought I'd play one too. Only mine was more successful, don't you think?" she said, with a grin, which Harry found irresistible, even though he too was annoyed with her for tugging at his heart all day with that joke of hers.

  "You!" 

  Ron was read in the face and in the ears by now. "How could you do that?"

  "It's not my fault you're gullible." She replied sassily, more to irritate his already irate mood than to state the facts.

  "You realize that if you were a guy I'd punch you."

  "Well I'm not, then."

  That moment she looked up at him with a teasing glint in her eyes and an easy smile. And both provoked his anger into disappearing, but pride resisted. His mouth twitched, stretched a bit, then pinched itself again. But at last a smile broke its way through and turned into a grin. 

  "Come here, you." He said softly.

  They laughed and embraced each other.

  Perhaps they didn't realize it but Harry was truly touched at the sight of them. It was so close and intimate, between brother and sister, something he would never experience.  

  "You had me worried there, Gin, honestly."

  "I know."

  "Because I love yo_"

  "I know, I know. You don't have to go mushy on me if you don't want to."

  "Thanks!" he paused, wondering if he should bring it up, "And um…I'm sorry if I'd been mean to you a lot lately. I don't mean any of it."

  "S'ok, Ron."

  "Just Holiday restlessness, you catch my meaning." He teased.

  She broke off and smacked him on the chest. "You had to ruin a perfectly sweet apology!"

  Ron sniggered. "That's exactly what's wrong with it." 

  "Alright, now you two get out of here and give me some peace. Shoo!" 

  Ron went out to soothe a distressed looking Mrs. Weasley, who came up all the way from the kitchen claiming she heard some shouting.

  Harry stayed behind. He wanted to say something to her. He wanted to say it no matter what the consequences. 

  "Umm…Ginny?"

  "Yeah?"

  She felt the old shyness slipping in, out of nowhere. Her face heated up a little so she ducked and pretended to check the glowing ball of magic inside the lamp shade.

  As a challenge to himself, he decided that he wouldn't get it out unless she was looking at him, so poor Ginny was forced to straighten up when she realized he wasn't going to start unless she did. 

  "I'm so glad you're not really involved with Malfoy." Then he swallowed hard, "or anyone."

  If her head was still under the lamp shade she was sure she would have bumped it sorely with the surprise.

  "W-what?"

  _Blimey! Do I have to repeat that?_ He thought. 

  "I_" but he couldn't go on. He felt stupid. 

  "Really?" 

  Her voice had gotten so soft and her eyes were fixed on his, demure and longing. But then, she told herself to be sensible. What she thought, or wished, he meant might not _be_ what he meant.

  "W-why?"

  _Why can't girls just take the obvious? _He thought. But he didn't want to leave her with any doubt about his meaning. But how on earth?

  _Just say it you prat!_

This was the most vital moment of her life, Ginny thought.

  _Please say it you prat!_

  "I like you." 

  If he kept looking at her, he would do something stupid. Even stupider than what he just said. But it was already out there wasn't it?

  "Which is a stupid thing to say, really, as I've always liked you, and your whole family. But I like _you_ a lot. In a way."

  Something rose and shimmered inside her, like faerie dust, tickling the senses. But she quieted it down, sobered it up. She wasn't the silly little girl anymore, she reminded herself. That statement could have meant anything. She hated what he said, or rather what he hadn't said, and regretted having to be sensible. But sensible was always best if you didn't want to fall into clutches.

  "Thanks. I like you too Harry." Then she decided to fake a little chuckle and say, "I mean, I was practically in love with you in first year."

  _A block of granite, right in the face! _He thought angrily. That wasn't the kind of liking he meant but he didn't intend to push it any further as she'd obviously discouraged him, turned his hope and expectations, as gently as she could it seemed, to the wooden floor. She'd obviously grown more cool-headed. He wished she could be silly over him now as she'd been four years ago.

  "Well, that's good then. We're in good terms now, aren't we?"

  "I guess we are, unfortunately. I would have very much liked to have a spat with you!"

  "I'll keep that in mind, so I can provoke you when I'm when I'm ready to fight with you, you vixen. You really did bite Ron's head off."

  "Served him right, fish-faced jackass!" she cried fondly. 

  Harry chuckled. But there was no merriness inside him. He wanted to rewind and redo the whole scene, in which he would have held her and told her he wanted her, but such things time ignores when pleaded with. 

  "Well, goodnight then." He said softly.

  "You too." 

  Just before he disappeared out the door, he turned his head to the right and glimpsed again the guitar and scraps of parchment.

  "Hey, Gin?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Do you play?"

  "A bit."

 He nodded and walked out.

  _Finally! Just like a man! Stalking out the door and leaving me with the mess to clean up. Bastard! The things that Potter could do to a body…unbelievable! Oh I just hate him!_

A hot burning rose in her throat and her eyes began to sting. 

  _Serves me right for thinking it could ever come true. JUST SERVES ME RIGHT!_

  She stamped her foot furiously. Furious with him and furious with herself. 

  "Oh Ginny, do you play?" she mimicked his casual voice. "Yes, you bastard! A lot _you_ know and a lot _you_ care!"

  A bit, she'd said. That's what she cared to let him know and what the Weasleys thought. They never knew that Ginny sat for hours in her room composing her own songs, which were so special to her and so dear, she didn't want anyone to hear them. She had to use a silencer she'd bought once from Hogsmeade to keep any sound she made, any tune, within the room and not outside of it. 

  And most of the bloody songs brought his bloody face into her head. Then he asks her, cool as you please, if she played. 

  She wanted to hurl the heavy turtle jewel box at him then put a memory charm on him to make him forget, just for her own physical satisfaction. And she would have, too, if she were not forbidden to do any spells outside of school. But the emotional hurt would remain even if she could do that. 

*   *   *

  It took Harry a great deal to keep himself from taking out his fury and regret on Ron's belonging  by knocking them about, or strangling Pigwidgeon, which in that black mood would have dearly satisfied him. How could he have blundered like that? It wasn't like it was his first time confronting a girl. 

  He slid into bed and was glad that Ron was in no mood to talk but slipped into sleep like a quiet butterfly. 

  He wondered if the mistake he did somewhere was indelible. But then, he remembered something.

  Ginny had said that he had done "nothing" and that was precisely the problem. What did she mean by that? 

*   *   * 

A/N: feel free to criticize the writing itself in your review…it would like to know what you think of that too…

      
  


	3. chapter 3

Disclaimer: I usually write a disclaimer just to get myself started…

                                                                                                             **CHAPTER THREE**

   The water was cool, tranquil, and an almost opaque silver-green. It seemed the birds of paradise had gathered on the lush green trees surrounding the spring. Warm warbles, flowing and golden, filled the area with more magic. He could glimpse the obscured pulsing body of the colorful bird from between the leaves, and from the branch a magnificent tail drooped, its gold and peach reflection wavering in a frenzy upon the tiny ripples of water. 

  The place smelled like…cinnamon and saffron. He breathed in deeply, almost reeled as the fragrance drained his brain of all thought. 

  When he opened his eyes, he knew the reason he'd come to this place. A head was breaking through the surface of the spring, disrupting its smoothness. A shiny dark head. 

  His senses tingled then went completely and pleasantly numb. 

  A graceful woman rose before him stopping just before torso slipped into lower body. A thick curtain of lustrous dark cinnamon curls swayed against a milk white back, still shining with wetness. 

  He reached out. He wanted to touch her but she was too far away, in the heart of the spring. 

  The water sprite turned her head to the left at the sound of his movement. He saw the delicate apple of her cheek, steeped in rose, her small pointed nose, the fan of very dark, very provocative, eyelashes, just before she raised her gaze, saw him, and gave him a wounding look that killed, a look that he would have savored and died for again and again. 

  It was Ginny.

*   *   *  

  The next morning was the morning Mrs. Weasley decided was best for a trip to Diagon Alley. The sky was slightly cloudy, meaning that the sun would be a lot more merciful while they were shopping, and there were only a few days left to September the first, anyway.

  Harry was in a better mood this morning, for he had woken up to a noisy pillow fight between Fred and Ron, which had Hedwig hooting about the terrible waste of feathers. Fred had accidentally swung the pillow in Harry's face and almost toppled over him. 

  When he showed up in the kitchen for breakfast, Ginny's heart spilled right into her bowl of fruit salad. His hair was sticking out every which where like thick black needles, his eyes were large and a haunting green that made her see the color even when she wasn't looking at him, but most of all, that stupid grin he'd plastered on his face that had her grinning goofily back. 

  "Hurry up and eat, Harry. We'll be leaving in fifteen minutes." Said Mrs. Weasley, rushing to iron her husband's robe. 

  Just then, watching him absently ladling some fruit salad into his bowl, she remembered the love song she had composed in her mind that Ron had made her forget while they were out in the meadow. Every single rising note, every single falling one, and all the jumbled words which had aligned themselves through it of their own accord.

  When he looked up at her, she was gazing at him, eyes wide and shining with triumph, dancing with song, and cheeks smudged with color. 

  He was truly enchanted. 

  "Do you like the sight of me eating fruit salad?"

  _I like the sight of you all the time. Just shut up and eat._

Her cheeks warmed up with more color.She got up without answering to take her bowl to the sink, then returned to clear up more dishes. "No. I just wanted a second helping but you took the last bit."

  He frowned. 

  _Liar.__ Wanting a second helping doesn't have you looking at me like that. _

"You can have it, if you want it." he offered and pushed the bowl towards her. 

  "That's very generous of you Mr. Potter, but you haven't eaten."  

  By the time Ginny had stacked the dirty dishes in the sink and washed her hands, Fred showed up wearing a striped sweater and mismatched shoes.

  "Hey, there's no food here to feed a hungry person! Harry, I'm sorry, my lad, but you look like a good candidate for my stomach."

  "What are you, a cannibal?" Harry protested, his mouth full of fruit. 

  "Fred, here's some bread, and there's some strawberry jam in the cellar." She told him, "Get it yourself." She added when she predicted he was going to sweet talk her into getting it for him. 

  Fred sighed and scratched his head. "We have a cellar?"

  "How hard did Ron whack you with that pillow?" asked Harry, tuning in his seat.

  When he turned around again, Ginny had disappeared. He sighed. He wanted to keep watching her move about in that pretty way.

  It was out the backdoor she went. The floaty breeze brushed nonchalantly past her face and stirred her hair. She closed her eyes, concentrating every fiber in her on the soft creamy touch of it. When she opened them again, the home she knew and loved before her, looked back, beckoning her to be that redheaded gypsy of a child again, and to run upon chubby little feet to chase the poor jackrabbits.

  Then an unwanted intruder broke into her sentimental thoughts. What if what she felt for Harry wasn't real? What if it disappeared, left her empty, as soon as she had him? 

  *   *   *

  When the Weasleys and Harry arrived at the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace, via floo powder, all head heads seemed to turn and stare. Such large crowds, especially redheaded ones with the boy who lived accompanying them, was not an everyday spectacle. Harry could hear chairs screeching on the wooden floor as hags with pipes in their mouths turned to be beady-eyed busybodies. The bartender rushed forward, stumbling on the tables in his way, to offer Messrs and Mrs. Weasley a nice hearty drink, his face aglow that the customers were increasing.

  "No thank you, Tim, not now anyway. We might stop by later, Robert and I. The family here wants to do some shopping. Hogwarts necessities, you know."

  "Of course, of course. I'll keep yer favorite seats reserved for ye, Aurthur." Said the bartender, as if refusing to take no for an answer. 

   They left the discomfort and the smokiness of the Leaky Cauldron and into the mild golden sunlight gracing the winding and twisting lanes of Daigon Alley. Harry was sure he never saw the same thing twice in Daigon Alley. He'd been going there for seven years now and it was still bafflement to him. 

  Ginny was eager to sprout her wings as soon as possible and get moving. But the business of withdrawing money from the Weasley account hampered the itching for release. She wanted to start exploring, to start seeing, to get _away. _A funny little fantasy occurred to her but she considered shaking it away, disposing of it like all the rest of the pesky unwanted fantasies. What if she got Harry a birthday present? Umm…A late birthday present. It would really surprise him. He'd never gotten a birthday present from her. 

  But, strange enough, she decided to go for it. 

  Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Ginny, and Harry stood in an impossible line inside Gringotts. The goblins seemed especially busy today, they were snapping and snarling at everyone to share their patience. Ginny wanted to scream. A glaring Goblin, coolly I must say, took off his minute round glasses and wiped them carefully with a silk handkerchief while his customer tapped his fingers at the counter. That's what triggered Ginny's rebellion.

  "Mum, it's stuffy in here. I'll just go outside and sit on the steps, s'that ok with you?"

  "Of course dear, Ron why don't you go with her if you don't want to stand and wait. Harry has to go to his vault."

  Ron wrapped a nonchalant arm around Ginny and walked her out. 

  Half an hour later, all parties met in a coffee shop, a cozy little place where there were coffee flavors made of things you've heard of and things you've never. The first thing Ginny's eyes saw as she went in was a neat girl of seventeen in a baby blue cardigan and mini skirt. She had shiny sleek honey colored hair, a rosy face, a thin frame, and was sitting so lady-like on an armchair with her coffee, a small book opened on her lap.

  "Hermione!" 

  The girl looked up. Beautiful serene blue-gray orbs shone with delight at the sight of Ginny (A/N: DO NOT put a mental note to write that Hermione had brown eyes in your review! I know what Rowling said.)

  Hermione daintily put her book and coffee mug on the table, sprung up and spread her arms out to hug Ginny. 

  What could a man do but stand and appreciate two beautiful girls, so full of life, hugging each other? Harry looked at Ron. He seemed to be thinking along those lines too. 

  When they broke apart, Hermione bounced to hug Harry and Ron. 

  "I've missed you guys! But that's nothing new is it?"

  "No it's not." Said Ron, "And we missed you too." He added pointedly.

  Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, as Ginny seemed happier to see me than you two were, I'll just start shopping with her." 

  Ginny laughed, rich and bubbly, like a baby fountain. At least that's how Harry heard it. 

  "That's right. I'm going to take my best friend here and have some fun."

  "She's _our _best friend, Ginny" said Ron and stuck a tongue at her.

  Hermione put a hand on her mouth. "Oh! You're fighting over me. That's so sweet!"

  "Shut up, Hermione. Don't rub it in." Harry jumped in, but already, obvious affection for her swept over his features. 

  They agreed on a meeting time with Mrs. Weasley, shouted their goodbyes, and scurried off like eager squirrels after the acorns. 

*  *  * 

  The lively group of four branched off into two couples. Ron and Harry made their annual visit to the Quidditch supply store, a place the girls weren't really interested in. Ginny and Hermione went to Flourish and Blotts. 

  The place was very crowded and the store keeper looked like he needed a rough back massage after hauling heavy books about for everyone. Taking pity on him, both Ginny and Hermione decided to look for their books themselves. 

  It was somewhere in a secluded isle, looking for the arithmancy book Hermione needed, that she chattered on about some family reunion the Grangers had in the holidays. 

  "There were so many people I couldn't keep track of all them. Aunty Clarisse kept moaning about how it could have been the last Granger Reunion. Like we'd go through some family massacre or something!"

  Hermione laughed then sighed. "Aunty Clarisse is always mopey."

  Ginny crossed her arms at her chest and cocked her head. Hers was a knowing smile of a friend who understood the things unsaid.

  "You had a terrible time, didn't you?"

  Hermione's eyes twinkled up at her. "Yeah" 

  She found her book. It was incredibly dusty, so she irately blew on it and was attacked by a bout of sneezing. 

  "Stupid bookshop! Don't they dust their books?" she complained while rubbing the tears out of her eyes.

  "A insult to books, eh? Here let me take that." Offered Ginny.

  She took it and carefully angled it so that the dust would be blown away from both their noses. 

  Hermione smiled. "Thanks. You look tired."

  "What do you mean?" 

  "You're not just tired. You're also waiting."

  "Did you hook up with Professor Trelawney again, Hermione?" asked Ginny, half serious, as she shook the remaining dust from her pretty green robes. 

  Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm serious."

  "How do you know I'm tired and waiting?"

  "I can sense it."

  "Through your…magical skills, or your unfailing intuition?"

  "Both" said Hermione, tossing her hair and flashing her a grin.

  "Well, tired and waiting, Hermione? I mean, come on, that's something a single thirty year old woman with a nasty job would be!"

  They went about searching for the rest of their books, roamed the isles to fill the linen sacks they accumulated at the entrance with the books required for their curriculum. 

  "You're waiting for Harry." Hermione said, matter-of-factly. 

  "Actually I was, but as he doesn't seem to be waiting for _me_, I decided I'll just grab the next man and leave him and his pace alone!"

  "Ginny." Hermione put her hand on Ginny's arm, "Sweetie, you're not an eleven year old anymore and he's not twelve."

  "Apparently he doesn't seem to notice, does he? How can you be best friends with someone so slow?"

  Hermione laughed. "I love it when you pick out his faults when you know you have nothing else to do but fondle over him!" 

  The look on Ginny's face, after she's said that made her heart break twice. It was so sad and hurt. 

  A simple comment like that made her heart pick up its pace, and wonderful images of him racing through her love-struck mind. 

  Before she knew it she was sniffling in Hermione's arms. A good thing it was they were alone in that section of the shop.

  "Hermione?"

  "hmm?"

  "Are _you_ tired and waiting?"

  "No. A relationship's the last thing on my mind right now."

  Ginny pulled her self apart from her and looked at her, scrutinizing.

  "You know what? People who wait get it last and people who think they don't want it get it when they least expect it and as soon as possible."

  "That's just in romance novels, Ginny."

  "Oh really? We'll have to see won't we?"

*    *    *

The sight and thrill of differently flavored people rushing past both she and Hermione managed to cheer her up and remind her that she had Diagon Alley all to herself. 

  Each whiff of scent was savored, every bubble of laughter, all the inarticulate babble, was appreciated. Ginny felt herself smile.

  "That's better, now, isn't it? You just needed to get out of the dusty library." Said Hermione, linking her arm with hers, as best she could with the shopping she was loaded with. 

  "Sometimes it's just _you_ who needs to go in it!" Ginny replied slyly.

  Just the air of the place, the way everyone around her did their shopping, the way it made her realized that all of these people had lives of their own, miseries to cope with, and joys to share with family, thrilled her, and filled her with wonder. And most of, all these people didn't seem to notice her or what she was doing.

  One of the songs she'd written popped into her head and she found herself humming it. It was so right for the place she was in, even if the words didn't really match.

_Oh, my life…is changing everyday. In every possible way_

_And oh, my dreams…it's  never quite as is seems. Never quite as it seems_

_I know I've felt like this before. And now I'm feeling it even more…because it came from you_

_And then I open up and see, the person falling here is me…a different way to be. _ 

  "What are you humming?"

  "Oh…just some song." 

  "It's beautiful." Hermione said thoughtfully, as she looked at the display of quills,    "Who sings it?"

  "Just some witch." 

  Hermione looked at her and gave her a sardonic look. But, nevertheless, she shrugged. 

  They moved on to the next shop, with Ginny considering telling her best friend about her songs. 

   Maybe she could, someday sell her songs to a record company and make a life out of it. It was obviously something she enjoyed, and the gold she'd be getting out of it would be considerable. But she still wasn't ready now of course. Someday. A fuzzy, twinkly, tickle of anticipation fluttered in her guts.

  _I want more…impossible to ignore. Impossible to ignore._

_ And they'll come true…impossible not to do. Impossible not to do_

_And now I tell you openly, you have my heart so don't hurt me…you're what I couldn't find_

_A totally amazing mind, so understanding and so kind…you're everything to me_

  On their enjoyable shopping journey, they met a few Hogwarts friends on the path. Parvati Patil looking very sophisticated and polished, and her best friend Lavender Brown with curious beads and crescent moons hanging down her neck, bangles with moonstones shining at her thin wrists. 

  It was strange how two people with completely different ways of thinking could get along so well. Parvati was a known Gryffindor vixen who always flaunted red rouged lips with a ravishing way of handling young men, while Lavender was eerie and whispery, a much younger, more beautiful, Professor Trelawney. One thing they shared, however, was their impossible penchant for clothes, even if their tastes did rather differ. 

  Pink faced and puffing from the exercise, Neville Longbottom gave them a cheery Hello from the other end of the street and cast Ginny a special glance, which Ginny winced inwardly at, but forced a nod and a grin. 

  She suddenly wished they could meet up with Harry and Ron. She didn't want other boys, especially poor Neville Longbottom, looking at her that way.

  "Hermione, why don't we go in there? I want to get Harry a birthday gift." She whispered urgently when Parvati and Lavender left, leaving a clear field for shy Neville to arrive upon. 

  "A birthday gift? But it's too la_"

  But she was already being dragged into the quaint antique shop just around the corner that didn't really seem to be a place where Ginny could get something for Harry.

  Ten minutes later, nevertheless, Ginny walked out with a triumphant smile and a small paper bag swinging jauntily at her elbow. Hermione came out behind her, relieved feelings with an impatient shake of the head before she looked her friend in the face and smiled in congratulation. 

  "Isn't it a beautiful day?" Ginny declared, opened her arms wide as if to embrace it. 

  "Didn't I get Harry a gift would be the right way to say that"

  "Well I _am_ happy I got him something, even if he doesn't deserve it." 

  Hermione stopped walking. Ginny looked back.

  "What?"

  "Harry deserves everything that would make him happy. His life is not as jolly as everyone seems to think."

  A pang of some kind attacked her heart. Did Hermione have to say that? Did she think she didn't know that? Didn't she know that it was part of the reasons she loved him, that she wanted so much to be the person who soothed his hurts? 

  "I know." She replied simply and softly. And Hermione understood. 

  _Oh, my life…is changing everyday, in every possible way._

_ And oh, my dreams...it's never quite as is seems. 'cause you're a dream to me. A dream to me…_

_*   *   *_

  That night, after a very enjoyable dinner of Mrs. Weasley's tasteful cooking, everyone wished Uncle Robert a happy birthday.

  It was a rather funny affair. Uncle Robert shied down, his head under the table. 

  "God send the demons to remind you when you young 'uns are all forty!"

  "Aw come now Uncle Robert, it can't be that bad!" said George.

  "Yeah, I mean, Dad didn't take it like that when _he_ turned forty!" chimed in Fred. 

  Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and pushed his peas around the plate like they were the most interesting things in the world. Mrs. Weasleys glared at him. 

  "He took it worse." She stated, simply, leaving the conclusions to be formed the way they liked in her children's heads. (A/N: No! Nothing like that! Just some heinous drinking)

  Still chuckling at the elder Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's affairs, Harry took his hot chocolate and was prepared to join the family in the living room, but he glimpsed Ginny sitting on the backdoor steps through the hazy screen. A weird magnetic force pulled at him, suddenly all thoughts of playing poker with Ron erased from his mind, and thoughts of looking at Ginny's dewy fawn-colored eyes replaced them. 

  Ginny didn't hear the backdoor being opened then closed again with a tiny click. She was already a part of the fantasy world she had built around her with the power of imagination, and it startled her to come back to the solid world she had been born in when she turned and found the object of her desire sitting right next to her. 

  "Brought you a cup." He said, smiling softly. 

  She looked at him hesitantly, wondering why on Earth, before she took it, more to warm her little hands on it. 

  "Thank you." 

  Harry wanted to gaze and gaze at her, but it was somehow forbidden. He felt he had no right to. But still temptation beckoned and he followed. 

  She wasn't glamorously beautiful, that was for sure. But there was a subtle rightness about the way that artfully spiraled curl fell on her creamy cheek. There was a calm velveteen beauty about the way her flower-bud like lips, feminine and rosy, rested upon the rim of the cup as her eyes surveyed every blade of grass pouring onto the bottom of the stone steps. 

  He wanted to brush his hand down her arm, or to catch that curl between his fingers and unfurl it, anything that would make her look at him in the way he wished she would. 

  What a damn fool he was! He really had gone and fallen in love with her! And if that didn't make him a fool he didn't know what would. 

   He did was sigh exasperatedly. 

  "What's wrong?" she asked, in genuine concern. 

  "Nothing."

  _I want to touch you. That's what's wrong._

  "Yeah, I'll try to believe that." She said, smiling a little. 

  He smiled back. 

  "What in the world_" she whispered.

  An owl, her owl, was swooping down with a great beat of wings and landed on Harry's shoulder.

  "What are _you_ doing here little fellow?" Harry cooed.

  The owl, without blinking an eye, dropped a letter on Harry's lap, then flew back to…Ginny's windowsill. 

  Harry turned to look at Ginny and to tease her about her silly bird but apparently she was rendered speechless. She was staring at the letter on his lap like it was a huge scaly snake. 

  "You!" she hissed, with an accusing finger pointed at him.

  "W-what did I do this time?"

  "You! It was you!" she hissed again. Then she softened up. "It was you?"

  "What are you_"

  Comprehension dawned on him. His fingers fumbled with the envelope, wrenched the letter out of it, unfolded it clumsily. 

  His eyes roved between the first two lines and then he looked up. He pointed at the letter…then at her. 

  She nodded. 

  "OH" he said, deeply. 

  They stared at each other for no longer than two seconds, child bewilderment on both their faces.

  Harry laughed first. "Cool!" he said.

  "Yeah, isn't it?"   
  The excitement of it died down and they both leaned back on the door to look up at the starry sky, which was clear and sharp. 

  "You know what I thought when I first saw you this time?"

  She was alert now, for sure. She looked at him and shook her head.

  "I thought, _she's _the_ Weasley_!"

  "Lucky me!" 

  She wanted to growl. But she hid her disgust as she set her now unwanted cup of perfectly good hot chocolate on the step beside her. 

  "No, really."

  "_Thanks_, Harry. Was that _supposed_ to be a compliment?"

  "Yes!" He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, "I mean, you have a great sense of humor, you've a kind heart, you have a delicious temper, and…well… I think if anything happened to this family, you'd stick up for it the most."

  It wasn't exactly what she was looking for, but it was what she was given and it did rather please her to hear something like that about her.

  "Thanks, Harry." She laughed, "If I keep saying thanks to you, it's going to wear me out! I think it's your turn to say thanks to me."

  "Alright. But you have to do something for me first."

  "I already did. I got you a birthday gift. Bit too late, I know, but_"

  "You got me a birthday gift? You've never gotten me a birthday gift." 

  "Well I just started now."

  "Thank you."

  She lifted her eyes and gazed through his. She wanted so much to know what was in there, hidden behind the powerful green. As if acting through no will of her own, her hand slowly and gingerly lifted and took those awful glasses off. 

  A powerful yearning exploded in his chest. His vision blurred but she was near enough to see clearly. He loved every freckle on her nose, the dark color outlining her amber eyes, the enticing tremble on her lips.

  He wanted to kiss her right then and there and felt that if he didn't, his whole being would shatter.

  The dim orange kitchen light was enough to bring out the kissable spots on her face, the rich tints of her hair.

  He inched his face closer and touched lips so soft and vulnerable, with his. 

  Ginny tipped her head back and just let it happen. The confusing possibility of it actually happening taking over her mind and bliss had to wait.

  It was exactly that. Bliss. His mouth took over hers, warm and possessive, heart rendering. 

  This would ironically be the moment she woke up, but she didn't. His kiss was becoming deeper, more intensive. 

  Harry was so drunk on the taste of her, he quite forgot himself. His hand gently traced the shape of her curls, feeling their smoothness under his fevered fingers. 

  Fred Weasley was strolling into the kitchen, a melodious whistle on the verge of escaping his lips, when he saw what he saw through the screen door. He grinned in appreciation and sneaked out of the kitchen, as quiet as a cat, looking quite gleeful. 

*   *   *

**THE END**

 __

      
A/N: Do you hear the wedding bells or do you think this is temporary? Tell me what you guys think… 

          


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